Konoha Hospital:

Naruto lay unconscious on a bed in the hospital, his small frame looking even frailer beneath the stark white sheets. The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed in the room, a rhythmic reminder that he was alive, though his condition remained uncertain. Hiruzen stood near the bed with arms crossed, his face displayed worry as he watched the medical team work. He had brought Naruto to the hospital himself, carrying the boy while his ANBU operatives arrived ahead of him to secure the area. He knew better than to leave the boy vulnerable—not here.

The hatred and prejudice Naruto faced every day extended even to the hospital staff. Hiruzen could see it in their cold glances, and hear it in the flat, detached way they spoke about the boy. The nurses and doctors moved around Naruto's bed with the precision their duties required, but their faces betrayed their true feelings. The doctors and nurses did their duty only because Hiruzen was standing there watching, his presence forced them to act professionally.

"His vitals are stable," one of the nurses reported flatly, barely sparing a glance at Naruto as she adjusted the IV line in his arm. Her tone was professional but detached. "But his chakra levels are fluctuating erratically. It's… strange."

"Strange how?" Hiruzen asked, his tone calm but firm.

The nurse hesitated, clearly reluctant to explain. Then another nurse, older and less cautious spoke, her hatred had poorly concealed as she spoke. "It's almost like something's interfering with it—though who knows what with him," she muttered under her breath, her eyes flicking briefly to Naruto.

Hiruzen's sharp gaze snapped to her, and she immediately stiffened, her mouth snapping shut.

"Speak clearly," he said coldly. "And keep your personal feelings out of this."

The nurse nodded quickly, muttering an apology, and stepped back.

The head doctor, sensing the tension, stepped forward with a clipboard in his hand. "Hokage-sama," he began, flipping through a clipboard. "The preliminary scans are… inconclusive. Physically, the boy has no significant injuries aside from the nosebleed, which stopped before you arrived with him. Internally, however, his chakra network shows severe strain—similar to what we might see in someone pushing their limits during a high-level jutsu. There's no permanent damage, but whatever caused this pushed him to his limit." His tone was carefully calm but the irritation in his voice was obvious, if he had it his way he wouldn't help Naruto at all.

"And yet," Hiruzen said, his voice stern, "Naruto was alone in his apartment. There was no one and nothing to cause such strain. Can you explain?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, avoiding Hiruzen's gaze. "I can't, Hokage-sama. There's no logical explanation. It's unusual, to say the least. But as I stated there is no permanent damage to his pathways—for now."

Another nurse glanced nervously at the Hokage before speaking. "The seal on his stomach—it glowed faintly earlier. Whatever triggered it has stopped, but it's still… troubling."

Hiruzen's expression darkened as he shifted his gaze to the seal on Naruto's exposed stomach. He had inspected it himself at Naruto's apartment when he found him, and again upon arriving at the hospital—this time more thoroughly. And while it remained intact, the fact that it had reacted at all was alarming. The Fourth Hokage's seal was extremely powerful, designed to withstand even the Nine-Tails' immense power. For it to activate without reason…

His thoughts churned as he stared at the intricate swirl. Minato placed this seal himself. He poured everything into it—his very life, and it was Kushina who had taught it to him. It shouldn't just… react like this without provocation. What could have triggered it? The Nine-Tails is still contained. I would have felt if its chakra were breaking free, everyone would have felt it. And yet… nothing. The ripple I felt when the seal glowed… was it a warning? An anomaly? Or something worse?

"This has never happened before," Hiruzen said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. His sharp eyes swept over the medical team, lingering on their hesitant movements and averted gazes. He could feel their contempt for the boy lying helpless in the bed.

For a moment, Hiruzen contemplated contacting Jiraiya. The Toad Sage had a wealth of knowledge about seals, and his involvement in Naruto's life would be invaluable. But Hiruzen quickly dismissed the idea. Jiraiya was in the middle of an important mission—one that could potentially affect the future of the entire village. Distracting him now was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Still… Hiruzen thought grimly, his gaze fixed on Naruto's pale face. I can't ignore this. Something happened to that seal, and I need to understand why before it happens again.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was a stark contrast to the turmoil in Hiruzen's mind. He turned to the head doctor, his voice sharp with authority. "Has the chakra network stabilized?"

The doctor hesitated, glancing at the monitor before replying. "For now, yes. But the fluctuations earlier were unlike anything we've recorded before. If it happens again…" He trailed off, his tone suggesting he wouldn't mourn the boy if it did.

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. "It won't happen again," he said firmly, though the unease in his chest betrayed his confidence.

Outside, the ANBU operatives stood stationed by the door, their presence a silent reminder of Hiruzen's authority. He had sent them ahead for this very reason—Naruto needed protection, even here. Especially here.

Hiruzen turned back to the head doctor, his sharp gaze pinning the man in place. "Keep monitoring him closely," he instructed, his tone cold and commanding. "Any changes, no matter how minor, are to be reported to me immediately. If he so much as sneezes, I want to know. And do not let personal feelings interfere with your duty. Or there will be consequences."

The room seemed to grow colder as the Hokage's words settled. The head doctor swallowed hard, a bead of sweat forming at his temple despite the neutral expression he tried to maintain. He bowed slightly, his voice tight as he replied, "Yes, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen's piercing gaze sweeping over the rest of the medical staff. "That goes for all of you," he said.

A wave of unease rippled through the room. The nurses and doctors exchanged nervous glances, their earlier contempt replaced by a growing sense of dread. The air itself seemed heavier, charged with an invisible pressure that prickled at the edges of their consciousness.

One of the younger nurses, standing by the monitor, felt her knees weaken slightly. Though the Hokage's tone remained calm, there was an unspoken force behind his words—a silent reminder of who he was. This wasn't just the kind old man they whispered about behind closed doors. This was the Third Hokage, the Professor, a man who had lived through wars and commanded respect not just through his title, but through his actions. The killing intent emanating from Hiruzen was subtle yet undeniable, like a blade pressed lightly against their throats.

The head doctor clenched the clipboard in his hands, his palms damp with sweat. "Yes, Hokage-sama," the head doctor repeated, bowing a little lower this time.

Satisfied, Hiruzen turned back to Naruto, the intensity in his gaze softening just slightly as he looked at the boy. But the weight in the room remained, lingering like a shadow long after the Hokage's focus had shifted.

The medical staff busied themselves in silence, their movements quick and precise. None of them dared to meet Hiruzen's eyes again, their earlier disdain buried beneath the oppressive reality of his authority.

Hiruzen knelt beside the boy once more, brushing the edge of the blanket back to expose the seal. He placed a hand over it, feeling the faint ripple of chakra beneath his palm. The glowing had been stopped, but it left behind more questions than answers.

His gaze lingered on Naruto as his mind raced through possibilities. 'If the seal is intact, then this must be external. But who or what could have caused such a disturbance? There hasn't been any sign of tampering—not from within or without. And Naruto himself…' He frowned. 'Even if his chakra network is strained, he doesn't have the capacity to disrupt the seal on his own. Whatever caused this disturbance, I must find the source. Otherwise, I fear we could all perish… and this could very well lead to another war.'

Hiruzen let out a deep sigh as his hand lingering on Naruto's small frame for a moment before he stood and turned to leave the room.

The moment the Hokage exited, the two ANBU operatives entered the room. Their masks revealed nothing, but their presence spoke volumes. They were more than just guards—they were there as enforcers, a reminder to the doctors and nurses of what would happen if they dared to let their personal prejudices interfere with their duties.

Hiruzen wasn't naive. He knew that leaving Naruto in the care of these individuals was a risk. Their glares and muttered remarks had made their feelings all too clear. Despite the fear his killing intent had instilled in them, it could only suppress their hatred—it wouldn't erase it. But that was precisely why the ANBU were there. Should anyone be foolish enough to act on their prejudice and harm the boy, they'd be met with a swift and brutal end.

One of the ANBU moved to the corner of the room, standing silently like a shadow, their masked gaze fixed on the staff. The other remained stationed by the door, their presence suffocating in its quiet intensity.

The medical staff exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier contempt simmered just beneath the surface, but the fear of retribution kept their hands steady and their mouths shut. Whatever thoughts they harbored, they knew better than to act on them now.

Inside the seal:

Naruto was unconscious as he laid there, his body limp and his breathing steady. He was completely unaware of the two beings watching him, and that they were responsible for the excruciating pain he had felt and the state he was in.

"So, this is the boy, huh?" Sukuna said, as he observed Naruto's body for the first time.

He crouched and examined Naruto from head to toe, noting the boy's small, frail frame. The child looked to be about eight years old, perhaps a couple of years older. He had red hair with golden blonde tips, and three whisker marks on each cheek that stood out subtly against his pale skin.

Sukuna's gaze then shifted to the boy's closed eyes, his curiosity got the better of him and he reached out. Using two fingers, he carefully lifted one of Naruto's eyelids. The boy's celestial blue iris caught the faint light of the mindscape, its brilliance momentarily holding Sukuna's attention, the only person he'd seen with eyes as blue as these…..

His mind drifted to Satoru Gojo.

"Tch," Sukuna muttered, releasing Naruto's eyelid. "Gojo's eyes were sharper. A limitless void reflected in those accursed Six Eyes of his. But this…" He paused, his gaze lingering on Naruto. "This is different. No calculation, no control—just… raw potential untapped. A canvas waiting for someone to paint it, though I wonder if this brat will ever hold a brush."

Gojo's eyes had been a reflection of his mastery, of his unrivaled understanding of cursed energy and cursed techniques. But this boy's eyes… they felt unrefined. The potential was there, buried beneath weakness and inexperience. Yet the thought intrigued him—what would these eyes become under the right circumstances?

Feeling intrigued, Sukuna decided to delve deeper. He placed a hand on Naruto's chest in the center, his fingers pressing lightly against the boy's small chest and he began to examine Naruto's soul.

Almost immediately, Sukuna's eyes widened in surprise. There it was again—that strange energy, it was similar to the malevolent force that radiated from the fox in the cage, but at the same time it was different it lacked that malevolent feeling. And this strange energy that both the fox and this possesed felt similar to cursed energy, but it wasn't the same.

This energy felt more… alive, vibrant even. It lacked the decay and bitterness that typically accompanied cursed energy. Instead, it pulsed with a vitality that was both fascinating and unsettling, as though it were tied intrinsically to life itself.

And what he found surprising was that this boy… he seemed to have a large amount of it. Sukuna's hand lingered on Naruto's chest as he assessed the scale of the energy. The sheer volume was staggering—easily equal to five—no, six—of his previous twenty cursed fingers. How could a child possess this much power?

"Impressive. For someone so small, you're carrying quite the burden, aren't you, brat?" He said as he removed his hand from Naruto's chest, but his gaze remained fixed on his unconscious form.

This energy wasn't just abundant—it was volatile, raw and untamed, swirling through the boy's body like a storm. The gears in Sukuna's mind turned as he considered the implications. What kind of child could handle such immense power without being torn apart? Who were his parents that had given birth to him? Perhaps the answer lies there.

'It's no wonder the fox is in a cage. This energy… if left unchecked, it would devour the boy from the inside out. But who sealed the fox in him and why?' Sukuna thought, then he turned and looked at the Nine Tails.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to answer my question, right fox?"

"I've already given you more than enough answers, human. I am not obliged to give you more. Now, leave me alone. I have no further interest in you or that brat. You're both powerless against me, especially you." The Nine Tails said, then it retreated deeper into the cage.

To it, Sukuna was nothing more than a parasite that he couldn't quite figure out, and happened to be sealed into the boy. Whatever Sukuna did, as long as he didn't interfere with the Nine-Tails' plans, then it didn't care.

Sukuna watched the beast retreat further into the recess of its cage before turning back to Naruto, who was still unconscious.

"I expected as much. Well, it looks like I'll have to go through the boy's memories, but first…" Sukuna stood and walked forward for a little bit before stopping, " The fox said that it and I are sealed in the boy, and that this is a reflection of his mind. If so then….." He raised his right leg and stomped on the ground, causing a large cascading effect as ripples moved out and the mindscape shook a bit.

He waited for a few moments, then it happened. The water that once looked yellow was dyed red, and ……… and made sure Naruto wasn't hurt

Sukuna walked up to the throne and sat down on it, he made this part of the seal similar to the inner world he had when he was inside of Yuji Itadori.

"Ah, that's a lot better. Now to see what's in this boy's mind and what I can learn from it." Sukuna said as he leaned forward on his knuckles and watched Naruto's life unfold.

The first thing he saw was Naruto sitting somewhere and there were other children around, at this time Naruto looked to be about 3 years old. Then a woman walked up giving them food and Naruto watched, but when she got him her face twisted in disgust. She seemed like she was debating even feeding him, Naruto stomach growled as he waited and then she gave him some scraps the last of the food but that was it. After that she walked away, not saying a word or being kind to him like she was to all the other children.

On other days different staff members worked at what Sukuna figured was an orphanage, and they were just as bad if not worse. Naruto was often starved, going hungry at night, and depending on the season freezing or hot as well, he wasn't allowed to sleep with the other children. He was given a worn out cot that smelled like someone puked and wet themselves, and the blanket he was given, counting they didn't take it away, was old and worn, threadbare barely holding together. And his clothes were the same but slightly better. The orphanage staff didn't bother locking the door of the room he was in—they knew he wouldn't dare try to leave. The room was cold and dark, the only sound was the occasional scurry of rats and mice along the walls.

Another instance was he had to wait till all the children were done bathing and he barely had any soap, all the hot water was used up and the water was dirty. Yet they made him get in anyways, despite his age even he could tell this water wasn't good for him but he didn't have a choice. If he didn't he'd be punished, and he knew very well what that entailed.

He was also abused by some of the staff members, he'd be pushed around, shoved or beat under the guise of punishing him. They didn't want the "demon" to fight back, so what better way to to make him feel like he deserved it?

It got worse as Naruto's life spiraled deeper into a living nightmare. Each day at the orphanage blurred into a relentless cycle of neglect and cruelty that would have broken anyone else, let alone a three-year-old. The staff made it a point to remind him, in subtle and overt ways, that he was nothing—less than nothing. A monster, a burden, a mistake that should have never been born.

When meal time came he wasn't allowed to eat with the others at the table. Instead, he was forced to sit on the cold, dirty floor in the corner of the dining hall, away from their laughter and warmth. The staff would toss him whatever remained, often bruised fruit, stale bread, or gristle that even stray dogs would reject. If he dared complain, he wouldn't eat at all. One particularly cruel staff member once spat in his bowl of watery porridge before handing it to him, sneering as she muttered, "Eat up, demon. It's more than you deserve."

Winter was the worst. The orphanage barely heated the building, and Naruto's corner room might as well have been outside. The windows were cracked, letting in freezing drafts that bit into his skin. His thin blanket provided no comfort, and his threadbare clothes did little to shield him from the cold. Nights were a torment of shivering and huddling in the fetal position, desperately trying to conserve what little warmth his small body could generate.

But the worst part, the most soul-crushing agony, wasn't the physical abuse or the starvation—it was the isolation. Naruto didn't understand why everyone hated him. He didn't know why the staff sneered at him, why the other children avoided him like a plague. He didn't know why the villagers outside the orphanage glared at him with such venom when he accompanied the staff on errands. All he wanted was what he saw other children receiving so easily: a kind word, a warm touch, a smile meant for him.

Instead, he got cold stares and cruel laughter.

He once tried to make a friend. A new boy, about his age, had arrived at the orphanage. Naruto thought, maybe, just maybe, this boy wouldn't hate him. He offered the boy one of his few possessions—a small wooden carving he had found in the trash and cleaned up. The boy hesitated, his eyes wide with curiosity, but before he could accept, one of the staff members swooped in, snatching the carving from Naruto's hands. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, glaring at him. "You don't get to bribe people into liking you, demon." She smashed the carving against the wall, splintering it into pieces, and dragged Naruto away by his ear as he sobbed.

The boy never spoke to Naruto again.

Sukuna watched as this all unfolded, he too had the same question, "Why do they hate this boy? To treat him like this and he's just a child, and they keep calling him a demon. Is it something his parents did? Or perhaps do they know of the fox and fear his power? But if that's the case, why nor just outright kill him?" Sukuna speculated a bit more but seeing he was getting nowhere he continued going through Naruto memories.

It'

The next thing he saw was that when Naruto turned four, the matron had shoved Naruto out, not even bothering to give him a coat or shoes to protect him from the biting chill of the autumn air.

He stumbled down the orphanage steps, his small frame swaying as he tried to balance on his frail legs. Her words—"You're nothing but a curse, a demon that should never have been born"—echoed in the air behind him as the heavy door slammed shut.

Naruto stood there for a moment, his breath visible in the frosty air. His tiny hands clenched at the frayed ends of his shirt as he looked around, his blue eyes wide with confusion and fear. He didn't understand why he had been thrown out. What had he done this time? The orphanage had been cold and cruel, but at least it was somewhere to sleep, somewhere to be. Now, even that had been taken from him.

Sukuna observed as Naruto began wandering aimlessly, his steps hesitant and uneven. The streets of Konoha were eerily quiet that night, but the few villagers who passed him didn't spare him a glance—or if they did, it was only to sneer or mutter curses under their breath. A shopkeeper carrying a sack of goods deliberately swerved into Naruto's path, knocking him over without so much as an apology. The boy hit the ground with a soft cry, his hands scraping against the rough stone road.

Naruto didn't cry. He sat there for a moment, staring at his scrapped palms, before slowly pushing himself back to his feet. His knees wobbled, but he managed to stand. The boy kept moving, his small, bare feet slapping against the cold, damp ground. The wind picked up, tugging at his tattered shirt and chilling him to the bone. He wrapped his arms around himself, his breath coming out in trembling puffs. His stomach growled loudly, but there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn't eaten that day—again.

Sukuna scoffed. "Pathetic," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual venom. There was no satisfaction in watching this boy's misery. If anything, it left an odd, bitter taste in his mouth. A child like this… stripped of everything, even the most basic human kindness. Sukuna had seen cruelty in his own time, but this? This was an entire community united in their hatred for one child. It was disgusting.

Naruto continued wandering until his legs gave out, collapsing in an alleyway between two closed shops. He curled up into a ball, pressing his back against the cold wall and tucking his knees under his chin. His body shook violently as the cold seeped into his bones. The only sounds were the distant murmurs of the villagers and the occasional barking of stray dogs.

Hours passed. Sukuna could feel the boy's body growing weaker, his breathing shallow. A lesser child would have succumbed to the cold by now, but Naruto's small frame clung stubbornly to life. His fingers twitched, his blue eyes half-lidded as he fought to stay conscious.

The alley was dark and narrow, the kind of place people avoided, the kind of place no one would think to check. Naruto's small figure was almost invisible, hidden in the shadows as the night dragged on. Sukuna observed the boy's struggle, the defiant spark in him refusing to extinguish even as his young body was reaching its limits. He couldn't help but be impressed by the boy's resilience, despite all that was happening he still clung to life and didn't get sick while having no protection from the elements.

This lasted for days, then one night as naruto lay in an alley asleep an ANBU with a dog mask found him shivering in the streets. The next day, the Hokage had taken him in, giving him a small apartment and enough money to survive. The old man had been kind, and Naruto appreciated it, but it couldn't fill the void in Naruto's heart.

The next memory unfolded as Sukuna watched Naruto's life shift after the Hokage intervened, but the improvement was only superficial—a plaster over a gaping wound. Sukuna observed as the old man, Hiruzen Sarutobi, handed Naruto a key to a modest apartment. It was more space than Naruto had ever had, but it was cold, empty, and bare. No decorations, no personal touches, just a single bed, a small kitchen, and a window that rattled in the wind. Hiruzen had tried to smile, tried to reassure the boy that this was his new home, but even Sukuna could see the weight of the old man's guilt. He knew this wasn't enough, and yet, it was all he could give.

Naruto's first night in the apartment was painfully quiet. Sukuna watched as the boy wandered the small space, his bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cracked walls, his blue eyes wide with uncertainty. The silence was oppressive, the kind that pressed down on his small frame like a physical weight. He curled up under the thin blanket, his body trembling—not from the cold this time, but from the unfamiliarity of it all. For the first time in his young life, he was truly alone.

The next day, Naruto ventured out into the village. Sukuna followed the boy's memories as he wandered through the bustling streets, his small figure weaving between villagers who barely noticed him—or if they did, they glared with open hostility. The whispers followed him wherever he went.

"Why is he still here?"

"That brat should've died with the fox."

"Don't let him near the kids."

Naruto pretended not to hear, but Sukuna could see the way his shoulders hunched, the way his pace quickened as he tried to escape their venomous stares. The boy found a small market stall selling cheap bowls of noodles and handed over a few crumpled bills from the allowance Hiruzen had given him. The shopkeeper's face twisted with disgust as he accepted the money, slamming the bowl down on the counter with unnecessary force. Naruto flinched but said nothing, taking his food and retreating to a corner where he could eat in peace—or at least, where he could pretend to.

As Sukuna continued to observe, he noticed a pattern. The villagers' hatred was relentless, unyielding, and completely unfounded. Naruto wasn't even old enough to have done anything to earn their ire. He was just a child—a child with no family, no support, no understanding of why the world seemed to despise him. Sukuna couldn't comprehend it. In his own time, strength dictated worth, and the weak were cast aside. But this boy wasn't weak. He had survived more in his few years than most adults could endure, and still, he stood.

Naruto's resilience became even more apparent as he grew older. Sukuna watched as the boy learned to fend for himself, scrounging for food when his meager allowance ran out and repairing his own clothes when they tore. He made do with what little he had, finding creative solutions to problems that no child should have to face. Yet, despite his resourcefulness, the loneliness never left him. It clung to him like a shadow, a constant reminder of the isolation that had been forced upon him.

One day, Naruto tried to join a group of children playing in the streets. Sukuna observed as the boy approached cautiously, his steps hesitant but hopeful. He offered them a small, awkward smile, his blue eyes bright with anticipation. But the other children stopped playing the moment they noticed him. One of them sneered, pointing at Naruto with a cruel laugh.

"Why would we play with a monster like you?"

Naruto's smile faltered, but he didn't give up. "I'm not a monster," he said softly, his voice barely audible over their laughter. "I just want to play…"

The oldest of the group stepped forward, a smug grin on his face. "Get lost," he said, shoving Naruto backward. The boy stumbled but didn't fall. His fists clenched at his sides as he stood his ground, his determination shining through despite the tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Naruto said, his voice stronger this time.

The other children laughed, and the oldest boy shoved him again, harder this time. Naruto hit the ground with a thud, but he didn't cry. He pushed himself back up, his small frame trembling with anger and frustration.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

The group of children scattered, laughing as they ran off, leaving Naruto alone in the street. He stood there for a moment, his fists clenched, his head bowed. Then, slowly, he turned and walked away, his steps heavy with defeat.

Sukuna couldn't look away. The boy's pain was raw and unfiltered, his emotions laid bare for anyone to see. And yet, no one did. No one cared. The world seemed determined to break him, but Naruto refused to shatter. There was something about that defiance, that stubborn refusal to give up, that struck a chord with Sukuna.

He continued watching as Naruto's life progressed into the next chapter of his hardships—the Konoha Ninja Academy. The memories shifted, showing Naruto entering the academy for the first time. He was smaller than the other children, his bright red and golden-tipped hair messy and his clothes slightly oversized. Despite the harsh treatment he had endured up to this point, there was an undeniable spark in his blue eyes, a bit of hope and excitement at the prospect of becoming a shinobi.

But the academy was no haven for Naruto—it was yet another battlefield.

From the very beginning, the instructors made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him. They ignored his questions, overlooked his raised hand during lessons, and barely offered him the bare minimum of instruction. When Naruto struggled with a particular technique, they offered no guidance, no advice to help him improve. If anything, they seemed to take pleasure in watching him fail.

"Pay attention, Uzumaki!" one instructor barked during a kunai-throwing exercise, his tone harsh and unforgiving. "Maybe if you stopped fooling around, you'd actually hit the target for once."

Naruto flinched at the reprimand but didn't argue. He bit his lip, forcing himself to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. He knew by now that crying wouldn't get him anywhere. It never had. Instead, he gritted his teeth and picked up another kunai, his small hands trembling slightly as he aimed. The kunai missed the target by a wide margin, and the instructor snorted in disdain.

"Hopeless," the man muttered under his breath, loud enough for Naruto to hear.

The other students weren't much better. They whispered and snickered behind his back, their laughter cutting through the air like knives.

"Did you see that? He couldn't even hit the target!"

"No wonder everyone calls him a failure."

Naruto pretended not to hear, his face carefully blank as he retrieved his kunai and tried again. He threw with all his strength, his movements fueled by frustration and determination, but the result was the same. The blade landed nowhere near the target. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

Despite the constant ridicule and neglect, Naruto refused to give up. After each lesson, he stayed behind, practicing long after the other students had left. He threw kunai until his arms ached, ran laps around the training grounds until his legs felt like they would give out, and practiced the basic hand seals over and over again until his fingers felt numb.

Sukuna observed as the boy pushed himself to his limits, day after day, with no one to guide him or offer encouragement. Naruto's determination was remarkable, but it was also painfully lonely. He trained in solitude, the empty training grounds his only companion. The other students had families, friends, mentors—people who supported them and celebrated their progress. Naruto had none of that. His victories, however small, went unnoticed, and his failures were met with scorn.

One particularly harsh memory stood out. It was a written exam day, and Naruto had struggled to answer the questions on the test. He wasn't stupid—far from it—but the lack of guidance and the cruel remarks from the instructors had worn down his confidence. When the results were announced, Naruto's name was at the very bottom of the list. The instructor didn't bother to hide his disdain as he handed Naruto his paper.

"Fail again, Uzumaki," the man sneered. "You'll never make it as a ninja at this rate."

Naruto stared at the paper in his hands, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched the sheet tightly, his knuckles white, and forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. He wouldn't cry—not here, not in front of them. He shoved the paper into his bag and left the classroom without a word, his steps quick and purposeful as he made his way to the training grounds.

That night, Sukuna watched as Naruto stood alone in the moonlit clearing, his breath visible in the chilly air. The boy practiced the Clone Jutsu over and over again, despite his exhaustion. Each attempt left him more drained than the last, but he didn't stop. He refused to stop.

"I'll show them," Naruto muttered, his voice low and trembling. "I'll prove them wrong. I'll get stronger, no matter what."

The jutsu fizzled out once more, and Naruto fell to his knees, his body trembling with fatigue. He pounded the ground with his fists, frustration etched across his face. But even then, he didn't cry. He sat there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, before slowly pushing himself back to his feet.

Sukuna couldn't help but be impressed. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, the boy kept going. He failed, and he failed again, but he never stopped trying. That stubborn resilience was a trait Sukuna recognized well—it was the same unyielding spirit that had driven him to become the King of Curses in his own time.

The memories continued to unfold, revealing the years of relentless effort that defined Naruto's time at the academy. He studied late into the night, using worn-out textbooks that Hiruzen had given him. He practiced jutsu in the woods, using trees as makeshift targets. He trained his body, running laps around the village and doing push-ups until his arms gave out.

But no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. The academy instructors continued to dismiss him, their disdain for him as blatant as ever. And when Naruto failed the graduation exam for the second time, Sukuna felt an unfamiliar twinge of anger. Not at Naruto, but at the village that had set him up to fail.

"This village… they've done everything they can to break you," he muttered, his voice low and contemplative. "And yet, here you are, still standing. Still fighting. You're either a fool or the strongest brat I've ever seen."

Sukuna then turned his attention inward, focusing on the strange energy within the boy—chakra, they called it. He had observed the villagers and academy instructors use it during demonstrations. Chakra was a fusion of mental and physical energy, a concept foreign to Sukuna, yet fascinating in its potential. Unlike cursed energy, which was born of negative emotions—hatred, fear, and sorrow—chakra felt more balanced, almost alive. It lacked the decay and bitterness of cursed energy, but it was no less potent.

Naruto, despite his lack of formal instruction, was brimming with the stuff. He watched the way the boy trained relentlessly, his chakra flaring with each failed attempt to perform what they called a jutsu. The hand signs, or hand seals as they were called, were used to mold chakra into specific techniques, the same way cursed techniques shaped cursed energy. The similarities were undeniable, and Sukuna found himself intrigued by the system's complexity.

"Jutsu, jujutsu," Sukuna mused, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "The names are too close to be a coincidence. What kind of world have I ended up in?"

The memories revealed more than just the mechanics of chakra; they also painted a grim picture of Naruto's suffering. Sukuna had pieced together the story of the Nine-Tailed Fox—the Kyuubi, as the villagers called it. The Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, had sealed the beast within Naruto on the night of its rampage. The villagers hailed Minato as a hero for his sacrifice, but they despised the boy who bore the burden of the fox's imprisonment.

"Hypocrites," he muttered. "They praise the man who caged the beast but condemn the child who keeps it locked away and keeps your dumb asses alive."

What the fox hadn't mentioned, but Sukuna had deduced, was that only half of it was sealed within Naruto. The rest was gone, likely consumed in some ritual or scattered into the ether. Sukuna's experience and knowledge of the soul and energy was unparalleled—it allowed him to sense it immediately. The fractured nature of the Nine-Tails' spirit was unmistakable, a glaring imperfection in an otherwise overwhelming presence. The beast might have been hatred incarnate, but even it wasn't whole.

And the boy didn't even know. He didn't understand the power within him, the potential to reshape the world—or destroy it. Naruto could have lashed out, could have unleashed the fox's rage upon the village that tormented him. Yet he didn't. Sukuna watched as the boy endured insult after insult, his head held high despite the tears that threatened to spill.

"What a fool," Sukuna said, though he wasn't mocking the boy. "To seek their acceptance when you could crush them underfoot. The long for love when all they've given you is nothing but hate."

He continued to observe as Naruto pulled pranks, his mischievous grin hiding the loneliness that ate away at him. The boy painted the Hokage Monument, dyed the village fountains bright orange, and swapped signs on the market stalls—all for a inch of attention. Sukuna saw through it immediately. The pranks weren't about causing chaos; they were about being noticed, being acknowledged. He wanted someone to acknowledge his existence. Bad publicity was better than no publicity at all.

The memories shifted again, showing Naruto sitting alone in his apartment after another failed exam. The boy stared at the cracked walls, his knees pulled to his chest as he hugged them tightly. He wasn't crying—not anymore. Sukuna could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that refused to be extinguished.

"They'll notice me," Naruto whispered to himself, his voice trembling but resolute. "One day, they'll see I'm not a monster. I'll prove them wrong. I'll become Hokage, and then they'll have to respect me."

Sukuna tilted his head, his expression unreadable as he watched the boy. There was a strange sense of familiarity in those words, a reflection of his own rise to power. He, too, had been scorned and feared in his time. He, too, had sought acknowledgment—not through love, but through domination. And yet, this boy chose a different path.

"You're an idiot," Sukuna said, his voice tinged with amusement. "But maybe that's what makes you strong. You don't let their hatred consume you. You fight it, even if it breaks you."

The King of Curses fell silent, his gaze lingering on the boy who had somehow endured a lifetime of suffering in just a few short years.

As Sukuna sat there, reviewing everything he had learned from the boy's memories and about this strange new world, he couldn't help but feel something unexpected stirring within him. It was faint at first, like a whisper in the dark, but it grew louder the more he dwelled on the boy's life. He leaned forward slightly, crossing his four arms in thought, his crimson eyes narrowing as he tried to identify the unfamiliar sensation.

It wasn't admiration, though there was something about Naruto's resilience that commanded a degree of respect. Nor was it disdain, though Sukuna often found himself scoffing at the boy's naïve optimism. No, this was different—something he hadn't felt in centuries.

Pity.

The realization struck him like a blow, and for a moment, Sukuna sat frozen, his expression unreadable. Pity was not an emotion he was accustomed to. It was foreign, unwelcome, and yet undeniable. He hadn't felt anything like this since…

Uraume.

Sukuna could still see it clearly: the boy sitting amidst the frozen corpses of his family and neighbors. The bodies were twisted in grotesque poses of agony, their faces contorted in fear. Yet the boy sat there, untouched by the frost, his small frame huddled in the center of the carnage. He wasn't crying; his eyes were dry and hollow, as if the horrors around him had drained him of all emotion. Sukuna had stumbled upon the scene, and questioned Uraume but even he didn't understand what happened. And so the King of Curses had taken this strange boy with him, and things went from there.

Sukuna had felt it then—this same gnawing sensation in his chest, this pity for someone so wretchedly alone and abandoned. He of all people, back then had shown compassion.

Now, as he looked at Naruto, that same feeling had returned. Sukuna frowned, his four arms tightening across his chest as he leaned on one, his sharp mind grappling with the why. Why did this boy, this insignificant brat, evoke such a reaction?

He thought of Naruto's memories, they played in his mind in a loop. The boy's suffering was undeniable, but so was his resilience. Sukuna had always despised weakness, yet he couldn't bring himself to hate the boy. And it wasn't just the boy's suffering that stood out, no it was something deeper.

The more Sukuna thought about it, the more he began to see the parallels between the boy and himself. Naruto was an unloved, and unwanted child cast aside by the world. Sukuna knew what that was like—he, too,was an unloved, unwanted wretched brat no one cared for, born into a life of scorn and isolation. He too had been called a monster, shunned and scorned, cast out like trash to fend for himself. The memories of his own childhood rose unbidden, sharp and raw despite the centuries that had passed.

Both of them had been rejected, ridiculed, and left to fend for themselves. Yet, their paths had diverged in the most profound way.

Naruto, despite the hatred he carried within him, kept his bitterness buried deep within him, he refused to let it define him. He sought love, acceptance, and acknowledgment, desperately clinging to the hope that if he worked hard enough he'd be accepted like everyone else. He chose to endure the pain rather than inflict it on others.

Sukuna, on the other hand, had chosen the opposite path. He had embraced his hatred, allowed it to consume him, and used it to carve his name into history. He had struck back at the world that had scorned him, carving a bloody path to the top out of spite and bitterness. His power had grown, but so had his loneliness. Even in his prime, surrounded by fear and reverence, Sukuna had been alone.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, as he looked at the unconscious boy "You're nothing like me, brat," Sukuna said, his voice carrying a strange mix of bitterness and respect. "I burned the world for the way it treated me. You… you're trying to save it, even when it doesn't deserve it. Why didn't you lash out? Why didn't you crush them underfoot like the insects they are? You have the power, even if you don't know it yet. That fox inside you… it's more than enough to wipe this village off the map."

The boy's memories revealed moments when Naruto had come close. Times when the darkness in his heart whispered temptations to strike back, to give in to the anger and pain. But Naruto had always stopped himself, always pulled back. Not because he lacked the will, but because he chose not to.

Sukuna thought back to his own childhood—the jeers, the beatings, the endless nights of hunger and loneliness. Sukuna had risen above it all, not through kindness or hope, but through sheer, unrelenting hatred. His strength had been forged in the fires of vengeance, his name whispered in fear by those who had once scorned him. But even at the height of his power, surrounded by legions who worshipped him, Sukuna had felt the same emptiness he had known as a child.

And now, here was this boy, this insignificant child who had every reason to lash out, to destroy, and yet… he didn't. Naruto's anger was there, simmering beneath the surface, but it didn't consume him. He sought connection, not destruction. He wanted to be loved, not feared.

Naruto had something Sukuna hadn't—an indomitable will that defied all logic. Even in the face of rejection, even when it would have been easier to give up or strike back, the boy clung to the belief that things could get better. He pulled pranks not out of malice, but because he wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged. Publicity, no matter how negative, was better than being invisible.

It baffled Sukuna, but he couldn't help but smile, this boy was interesting, different.

"You're either the biggest fool I've ever seen, or you're something else entirely. Either way... you're starting to amuse me, Naruto Uzumaki."